


Pumpkin Spice (Part 1)

by junbaitarashian



Series: Sunshine Cafe AU [4]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, Romance, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junbaitarashian/pseuds/junbaitarashian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of unimpressed Jun and a forgotten Pumpkin Spice latte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumpkin Spice (Part 1)

It’s winter, mid December actually, it’s cold and there is snow on the sidewalk that is half absurdly shoveled for the pedestrians to walk through. I scowl; my designer boots are probably going to get stained, but it’s my day off and so the only occasion I can find time to check out the café my friend and secretary, Sakurai, suggested. 

I park my car in front of the building surprised to find the establishment next to the bookstore I frequent. I step out and make sure I set my car alarm before tucking my hands in my Armani coat that is not entirely doing its job of keeping me warm. Well, I was at a coffee shop, even if the coffee turned out bad it could do to at least keep me warm. 

I stand in front of the building for a second looking at the name sign doubtfully, “Sunshine Café” I read aloud, hoping it would sound better or more serious in the tone of my voice, I frown; it doesn’t. I let out a heavy sigh, ‘well, I’m here already.’ I think, and with much reluctance I push open the glass door.

The first thing I hear is the predictable soft chime of a bell followed by an over cheerful welcome greeting. I ignore it and don’t bother to look up. I keep my head low for the time, pretending to fiddle with my droid phone because I am already so unimpressed with the choice of color on the aluminum tile floor, that I am sure the rest of the café’s décor is just as impressive. I frown again and make the mental note to find the manager and offer my company’s services, perhaps redesign the whole establishment personally, which would be an honor given that I owned the most prominent designer company in the entire country.

I hastily make my way to the counter wishing not to waste any more time that I had in coming here, anquickly make my decision to just order a classic Grande Americano and then leave as soon as possible. And damn it! This was the last time I would ever listen to Sakurai if all his recommendations would be this mediocre.

“Morning! My name is Inue Mao. What can I get for you?” I hear the barista singsong her routinely greeting. I clear my throat ready to ask for my drink but I lift my sight from my phone, out of habit, to look at the barista. I inhale sharply and instantly feel the air get caught in my throat. I can feel the little hairs standing at the back of my neck and electric serge run up and down my spine. Time stops, or at least it feels like it does, and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from the young woman behind the counter or the beaming smile that threatens to blind me with its beauty.

Slowly the smile turns grim and I helplessly watch as I realize what I had been doing. I gingerly shake my head and shut my eyes, making them open and close a few times, trying to readjust my sight. I remember to breathe again.

“Sir?” she cautiously asks and it doesn’t quite register.

Suddenly, I feel lost, I try to make sense of where I am, what I’m doing. ‘Think, think!’ I repeat in my head. ‘…Right! Sakurai, coffee shop, counter, order, grande Americano. YES’

I open my mouth again to say my order and I look anywhere, at anything, but at the barista, but my eyes catch sight of her again with all the shifting, and she looks troubled… worried? I don’t really know but my heart starts picking up a beat I can’t quite place, a funny pressure in my chest, heat raising to my face.

“Umm, Sir?” the barista asks softly and brings my attention back to what I was doing. I panic, realizing I hadn’t said anything yet and that my mouth had only been flapping open and close the entire time. “Are you alright?”

I shut my eyes aging, clearing my throat once more. ‘What is wrong with me? What am I doing? Am I alright?’ I wonder. I breathe in slowly, trying to clear my hectic mind but it only takes one look and the concern barista to find myself stammering a “y-yes.”

“Sir… if you need more time…” the barista begins, but an unexpected panic runs over me, and I can’t understand why. 

“I don’t know the menu.” I blab, and though it’s certainly true it’s not the real reason. The reason, the true reason…

“Oh, well,” the barista interrupts my epiphany and somehow I feel relieved, “may I recommend the pumpkin spice blend?” 

“Grande,” I unconsciously add and make to quickly take out my wallet, pulling out a twenty and dropping it on the counter, “keep the change.” I say before quickly turning foot and dashing to the glass door.

“Sir!” I hear her call out before the door closes behind me.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC...


End file.
